


Handmade for Somebody Like Me

by chasingthebooty



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M, Slow Build?, i think, it's hard to think of tags since it's been so long since i actually wrote this lol, not proofread lol, yuuri in a crop top
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-20
Updated: 2017-05-20
Packaged: 2018-11-03 00:44:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10956168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chasingthebooty/pseuds/chasingthebooty
Summary: Victor didn't expect to fall in love so easily. Yuuri didn't expect to be so lucky.





	Handmade for Somebody Like Me

**Author's Note:**

> WOW that's a bad summary... Google docs tells me I haven't worked on this since early December tho so it's hard for me to remember what i've written lol. I'm posting this mainly to assert that i'm still alive and possibly to convince myself to actually finish this.

Victor doesn't quite realize what he's looking at, at first. Certainly, the black hair looks familiar - why, there are only so many people that he knows that possess such jet black locks. The glasses, too, prick at his mind, blue frames begging him to recognize the person that beholds them on their face. And, perhaps, Victor would have no issue recognizing such a person, if the rest of their body weren't such an anomaly, throwing off his memory - a thin waist with thick thighs, dressed in the confident attire of what one might expect a seventeen year old _girl_ to be wearing, not what is obviously a teenage _boy._

Victor isn't one to judge based on that, however. This boy can dress in whatever way he damned pleases. But Victor can't shake the feeling that _he knows this boy_ , he knows this very attractive boy with his tight charcoal leggings, with his soft belly, with his crop top sweater that bears the image of a broken heart on the sleeve. He knows this boy, with the soft cheeks, the messy hair, the laughter that carries itself across the room to kiss Victor’s ears despite the distance currently between them. Victor knows this boy, _but who the hell is he?_

Victor’s not even sure how long he's been staring for, or when his struggle to remember this boy suddenly became an intense admiration, or perhaps more accurately, an intense _lust._ He tells himself that his reason for staring so long at the boy’s legs stems from him trying to recognize him, but the heat on his cheeks tells him that there's more to this than he wants to think there is.

Victor’s eyes are drawn away from his legs just as another boy - _far_ less attractive, admittedly, and truthfully Victor wouldn't even spare him a second glance - grabs the arm of the heavenly figure Victor had been admiring and whisks him away, in the opposite direction of Victor.

Victor suddenly realizes just how warm his face had gotten, and how oddly tight his clothing has started to feel. He can't tell if it'd always been this tight, or if he's been sweating or _what_ , but what he _does_ know is _that boy was beautiful._ He wasn't _handsome,_ in the masculine sense, no, he was _beautiful._ He _is_ beautiful, because even if Victor can no longer see him, his grace has still left an imprint on Victor, and he knows that no matter where that boy is, he is undoubtedly still spreading his charm in what can only be described as _beautiful._ It's a feminine sort of charm - his thin waist and larger hips scream _childbirth,_ despite that being biologically impossible, _and did Victor_ really _just think that about a stranger?_

Victor shakes his head. He's at a mall, not some damn stripper joint. He should know better than to let his eyes wander. Wanting to know who that boy was is no excuse to be _perverted._

Victor glances down at his phone and reads the time, slowly doing the math in his head to find out that he'd been standing in the same spot by a pizza line in the food court for nearly _ten minutes._ That in itself may not have been such an issue if it weren't for the fact that, upon being snapped back to reality by the absence of his thick goddess - _goddess,_ for his beauty was feminine, Victor now realizes he'd been deaf to the people around him. A glance at the front counters by the pizza diner suggests that the employees had been waiting on him to come up and order, and the heated glares from the few customers around him makes him realize that he'd been frozen dead center in line, forcing people to maneuver around him.

Victor attempts to laugh it off, however. How long has it been since Victor was last so enamored by a boy before? It tickles his heart, though a hint of anxiety plagues him over the fact that he still hasn't made the connection yet of who that boy was. He _knows_ him, he definitely does, but _who is he?_ He's not sure he'll be able to even get to sleep until he solves this mystery.

But Victor doesn't even mind that so much. He doesn't mind having a puzzle to solve. And if he can't ever seem to solve it, then it just wasn't meant to be, fate would have it - that's how Victor views this situation. Victor likes to remain positive.

It's odd to think. Victor had merely come to the local mall with intentions of purchasing a new jacket, as all of his old ones seemed to be falling apart all of a sudden (he blames his dog, Makkachin, and her incessant habit of chewing on his clothes). And perhaps, he'd planned on grabbing a bite to eat.

He definitely hadn't expected to find a Victoria’s Secret model sweeping the unworthy, dirty floors of the small mall.

Pizza. Right. Victor’s in line to get pizza.

He's not sure that he has much of an appetite left, however. Surely, upon stepping foot into the food court, his belly was starting to growl at him like Makkachin might at a stranger. But now, he feels too many other emotions beyond hunger - his fingers feel stiff as he grabs for his wallet, and he has to force his legs to move forward towards the cashiers so that he can order his food and get out of everybody's way. His mind is fuzzy, wanting both to try to figure out who that boy was while also wanting to picture himself between those thick thighs, painting them purple and red and wet _and shut the hell up, Victor, you're a mature eighteen year old man, not a horny fifteen year old._

Eighteen years old. That's right. Victor is eighteen. He is nearing the end of his high school career, readying himself to enter the real world to pursue his interests in ice skating further. Preferably, he wants to be an actual ice skater - though if all else fails, he doesn't mind being a coach.

Especially if he gets to coach a cutie like the boy he just saw.

_Shut the hell up. Stop acting pathetic._

Victor can't stop himself from smiling.

                                                                                                             ~|~

The second that Yuuri steps foot into his bedroom, his clothes fly off.

First is the shirt. Fuck that shirt. It's cute as hell, but he hates it.

No, he doesn’t hate it. He just hates himself.

Next comes the shoes, then the leggings. Yuuri makes sure to throw the leggings on the mirror by his closet, obscuring his view of himself.

Thus leaves him in only his boxers (cute boxers, at that - they're blue with pictures of cartoon poodles printed on them). Yuuri slumps down onto the floor of his bedroom, heaving a sigh as he looks down at himself. He’s been working out a lot more lately, that's for sure, but he still feels _inadequate._ He's taken advice straight out of every _“How to be More Confident”_ manual in existence, and yet still he is lacking. Sometimes he feels that perhaps he just wasn't built for confidence, despite forcing himself out of his house on the weekends to sport skimpy outfits that _supposedly_ are meant to build up his outlook on himself.

But who knows how long he's been doing this for? By now, he's merely gotten used to it to the point that he no longer feels the need to tug on his short shirts every few seconds. On the inside, he still worries and he frets over every little imperfection he might possess. Isn't he supposed to be comfortable by now? Isn't he supposed to feel _good_ about himself? What is he lacking in that would make him feel happy with the clothes that he so dearly wants to feel good in?

Yuuri loves crop tops. Yuuri loves shorts. Yuuri loves leggings. Yuuri loves heels. Not traditional things for a male to love, but nonetheless. Yuuri loves those things, but he doesn't love _himself._ In not loving himself, he therefore feels awkward and clumsy in the things he owns. Wearing heavy sweaters isn't any easier, that is - he wears those to school, and they merely make him feel invisible. So he either feels _too_ visible, or not visible enough. He either feels like he's being stared at, or he's being run over by kids that don't notice him.

He just wants to feel happy about himself. He wants to wear what he wants to wear and be happy with that. He wants to be able to feel confident, and he wants to be able to come home and not have to strip himself of his gear just because he's ashamed he ever left the house in it.

Yuuri stares down at his legs. His body isn't _ugly,_ per se. So why is Yuuri so embarrassed?

It's his thighs, it must be. They're thick. _Too_ thick. _Fat’s_ the word, isn't it?

Then there's his calves. Not much better. A bit more muscular, but odd in contrast to his softer thighs.

Maybe it's his stomach. His belly isn't fully flat, and Yuuri reprimands himself for eating too big of a dinner the night before.

Yuuri takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and wraps his arms around himself. He must be overthinking. After all, who even saw him today? There was his friend, Phichit, who escorted him around the mall as a casual Saturday evening window-shopping get-together. There was Yuuri’s mom, who didn't make a comment on the outfit but rather worried over if he'd be home in time for dinner. There was one lady who saw him in one of the stores at the mall, though she looked only into his eyes as she spoke and she only spoke to offer assistance.

Did anybody else notice Yuuri? Probably not. Yuuri doesn't even mind so much not being the center of attention. What bothers him is _what were those people thinking?_ When Phichit saw Yuuri with his belly button out, his hips on display, was he disgusted or was he proud? Did he notice Yuuri’s confidence or did he see through the attempt and realize that Yuuri still struggles to perceive himself as worthy of the life he wants to live?

Phichit is from Thailand, unlike Yuuri. Perhaps people in Thailand are different and don't care about the way that someone else dresses. Or perhaps that's a purely _Phichit_ thing, in which he just doesn't take notice of the fashion of others. Regardless, Yuuri had a fun time out with him. They were out for several hours, and had fun eating and looking at merchandise that they know neither of them could ever even dream to afford.

Yuuri uncurls his arms and moves one hand to his shoulder, squeezing it, feeling his bones, reminding himself that he's still alive. That the things around him are real, and he is still functioning.

Yuuri might die, were someone that he knows besides Phichit or his own mom to see him dressed like he was. He understands that he runs that risk every time he leaves the house in revealing clothing, but after so long he's come to see that it's very rare for him to actual run into someone that he knows outside of school. He's not sure why that is, whether it's luck or coincidence. Either way, he can't complain, for there aren't too many people from school that he'd be particularly eager to see an extra time in one week.

Yuuri opens his eyes, crawls forward until he's by his bed now, and he pulls a blanket off of the mattress and wraps it around himself. One day, Yuuri will feel confident. One day, Yuuri will walk outside of his home and show off to the world of just how _good_ he feels, of how he beat the odds of his own insecurities.

Yuuri _will_ be confident.

Yuuri can't help but smile a little as he snuggles further into his blanket.

                                                                                                             ~|~

Victor hasn't been able to stop thinking about the boy from the mall ever since, well, he had first set his eyes on the boy.

He walks nearly blindly through the halls, his fuzzy mind projecting images to him of the pretty boy. He's deduced that he must know the boy from school, somehow, for the boy was clearly young and he wasn't one of the many ice skaters that Victor knows from his after school club. Knowing this, Victor attempts to look around at the kids that he passes as he strides through the hallways, passing locker after locker and growing slightly frustrated at the lack of black hair and brown eyes. There was one boy that he passed with that combination, though he was too tall to be Victor’s angel. Victor can feel his chest growing uncomfortably tight with worry.

Deep breaths. It'll be fine. Victor will survive, even if he never sees that boy again. Maybe, even, Victor is fooling himself into thinking that he recognized the boy. He's fooling himself into thinking such a thing out of a desperation to have that boy within his reach. Victor chuckles at the thought - he sure has grown a little pathetic, hasn't he? He just hopes he’s still charming, despite that.

Of _course_ he's still charming. He's _Victor Nikiforov,_ after all. One of the most athletically gifted in the school, he has girls falling over themselves trying to get with him every day. He doesn't really have the heart to tell him that he's just not interested, though, and thus he's accidentally built up a reputation has a boy who's playing _hard-to-get._ With every girl in the school.

Victor’s just about to resign himself, settled on the idea that he won't find his angel today, until fate blesses him and _he sees him._ Victor sees the boy from the mall, with the same jet black hair, the same pale skin, the same blue frames.

The same thick thighs, though slightly harder to see when not dressed in leggings. The same _shut up, Victor. Keep your eyes on his face. Don't be indecent._

Victor takes a deep breath and lunges towards him. He's standing in front of a locker, exchanging books out. Victor comes up behind him, slams a hand down on the kid’s shoulder, and he slips a finger under his chin to pull his face up where Victor can see him better.

Victor’s heart stops.

He _does_ recognize this kid. But why'd it have to be _him?_

Victor clears his throat, and despite his rising anxiety, keeps up a cheerful façade. _“Yuuri!”_ he says enthusiastically.

Yuuri’s eyes are wide. He says nothing back.

“Yuuri Katsuki,” Victor says, as if to confirm it to himself. “Yuuri Katsuki!”

Yuuri. Much like Victor is athletically gifted, Yuuri is _academically_ gifted. Polar opposites, and as a result, Victor’s heard very few admirable things about Yuuri. _Yuuri’s a nerd,_ he's heard. _Yuuri cares about nothing but his grades in school._

As a result, never before had Victor spared him many second glances. But seeing him at the mall, unshrouded by everyone else's opinions of him, Victor saw Yuuri in a whole new light. But now that they're back in a school setting and speaking for the first time, Victor has to take a step back and reevaluate what he's doing.

Does he _really_ want to get involved with Yuuri? It'd be bad for his own reputation, sure, but it'd also hurt Yuuri. Victor already hears enough negativity in regards to Yuuri, would that not just increase if Victor started hanging out with the boy?

“Yuuri Katsuki,” Victor says again, like a broken record. “Katsuki Yuuri.”

Then, Yuuri’s mouth opens, and for a second Victor doesn't even realize that he's spoken. His voice throws him off guard, soft and quiet and albeit rather _heavenly_. “What?”

How had Victor never seen how beautiful Yuuri was before? Victor's been too ignorant. Someone so gorgeous does not deserve to let their charm go unseen, and it's especially tickling to hear that his voice matches his appearance. _Beautiful_.

“Yuuri!” Victor exclaims.

“What.” This time he says it with more certainty.

“Yuuri, Yuuri, Yuuri!” It's like a spell. Yuuri has certainly cast a spell on Victor’s heart, if anything.

“ _What_.” Yuuri does not reciprocate the enthusiasm.

Victor slides his finger off of Yuuri’s chin, realizing that he must be hurting Yuuri’s neck to make him stretch that far back to look at Victor. Victor then steps to the side to get a better look at Yuuri.

Yuuri was very attractive from far off, but he's definitely a whole different sort of beautiful up close where Victor can see every blemish of his skin and every stray hair. Up close, he's so flawed that Victor may even dare to call it _perfect,_ from the way that his baggy shirt hides the curves that Victor knows all-too-well by now that Yuuri possesses, to the way that his ears are currently red with a blush.

Is Victor making Yuuri blush? Victor prides himself in the thought.

“Yuu-” Victor starts, but he's cut short.

“I have to go.”

“What?”

“Have to go.” Yuuri's not even looking at Victor anymore.

“Wh-”

“I’m sorry.” Yuuri’s face is a bright pink now.

Victor blinks, still trying to understand. Did the bell for school to start ring already? Victor wasn't listening.

Yuuri moves a lot faster now, frantically grabbing books until his thin arms are filled. He slams his locker door shut and, sparing Victor one last pitiful look, turns and heads away from Victor. Victor debates on whether to follow him or not, ultimately deciding not to.

That is, until Yuuri looks back at him _one more time._ Something in Yuuri’s bright brown eyes ignites a fire in Victor’s heart, and his legs move on their own will, chasing down Yuuri until Victor’s right at his side again.

Yuuri seems to speed up at that, but Victor’s legs are longer than Yuuri’s. Victor’s not oblivious, however - as he rests a hand on Yuuri’s shoulder to stop Yuuri from walking, he notices how stiff Yuuri gets. Yuuri halts and turns around to look at Victor.

Victor’s thrown off by Yuuri’s suddenly harsh tone. _“What do you want?”_

Victor doesn't respond. He hadn't expected Yuuri to get angry.

“Er,” Yuuri backtracks, realizing that he'd come off as frustrated, if not wholly rude. “Um, I mean-”

“No, I understand.” Victor’s hand falls from Yuuri’s shoulder. “How are you, _Yuuri Katsuki?”_

Yuuri just looks at him, his eyes scanning Victor’s face. Victor feels his cheeks heat up.

“How am I?” Yuuri murmurs, not seeming to understand. “I am fine.”

“That's good. Splendid!” Victor grins. “Wh-”

“I have to go. Goodbye.”

“But-”

_“Goodbye.”_

This time, Victor doesn't chase after Yuuri, partly because he feels that Yuuri’s annoyed by him but also mainly because Yuuri dashes down the hallway after saying his piece.

Yuuri was definitely the boy that Victor saw in the mall. It's a bit more difficult to tell, today, because Yuuri’s hiding behind bulkier clothing, but the smooth pale skin of his face and the distinct blue frames of his glasses are unmistakable. That in addition to the fact that Victor already semi-recognized Yuuri the day before at the mall, Victor is certain that this is the boy. But why does Yuuri dress so differently on the weekends? Why does Yuuri appear so confident, when here at school he's anything but? And why has Victor never heard of Yuuri dressing so _attractively_ before? Has nobody else ever seen Yuuri outside of school before?

Victor’s mind races with questions, but one thing’s for certain. Yuuri can run, but he can't hide from Victor forever. Victor wants to figure him out. He's not afraid - if the rumors are true, if Yuuri is merely a boring nerd who spends all of his time studying, then soon enough Victor will know.

He has a feeling, however, that's not the case. Yuuri can't be boring. Already, he's interesting Victor quite a bit. His clothes, his attitude, his everything - Yuuri is so far from _boring_ that it shocks Victor that anybody even dares to associate the word to his name.

Victor’s ready to have some fun with Yuuri.

                                                                                                             ~|~

Sometimes Yuuri wishes that he weren't so easy to read. He often feels that life would be easier if he found it natural to hide his emotions, but unfortunately for him, he is an open book whether or not he intends to be. Even his _fingers_ reflect his emotions, whether they be crossed with anticipation, curled with anger, or stretched and relaxed as a mirror of his happiness.

That may be one of the reasons why he's so close to Phichit, though. Yuuri’s easy to read, and Phichit is very understanding. Therefore, once he realizes how Yuuri’s feeling, he adjusts to make Yuuri most comfortable.

Yuuri wishes he could do the same for Phichit, but Yuuri’s never been too good at reading other people. At least not in the way that Phichit is.

When Yuuri takes a seat next to Phichit in class, for example, it only takes Phichit a moment to realize that Yuuri’s upset.

“Yuu?” Phichit whispers, though unnecessarily since class hasn't even started yet. In fact, it doesn't start for another ten minutes. Yuuri’s just early today, whereas Phichit’s always early because of his intense want to do perfectly in his academics. “What's wrong?”

Yuuri doesn't answer him. He instead settles into his seat, heaving a sigh.

“Yuu,” Phichit repeats. Yuuri looks up at him.

“Phichit, is there something wrong with me?” Yuuri realizes it's sudden, and perhaps strange to ask. The look that crosses Phichit’s features only reinforces this, his eyes widening and jaw dropping.

“What- What do you mean?”

“Like-” Yuuri leans forward, trying to find the words to explain himself. “Like, am I ugly? Is it the glasses?”

“You're not ugly, Yuuri.”

“Am I weird? Do I sound weird?”

“No, not at all.”

“Is it my clothes?”

“I like your clothes.”

“Does my breath smell bad?”

“I haven't noticed.”

“Is- Am I a _freak,_ Phichit?”

“Er.”

“Like- Like a _weirdo?”_

“Yuuri, what happened?”

Yuuri rubs his forehead with his palm, as if it'll transfer all of the answers to his questions straight to his brain. “I- ah, I don't know how to explain.”

“Explain it the best you can. I'm listening.”

“You're too good to me, Phichit.”

“I know. Explain?”

Yuuri shoots him a small smile. “It's nothing. It's weird. Um, someone came up to me today. Started talking to me. Never met him before, though.”

“So?”

_“So,_ people don't usually do that with me. That's why I only have, what, five friends?”

“Five is a lot.”

“Still. Not nearly as many as that guy who came up to me must have. He was- He was so _outgoing_. Outgoing people don't, er, usually talk to me.”

“Are you saying that I'm not outgoing?”

“You know what I mean.”

Phichit grins, a chuckle slipping out. “I do. Who was it, Yuu? Who came up to talk to you?”

“I don't know. He had a heavy accent. And he got really close to me. Like, I could smell his breath. Smelled like mint. He had gray hair.”

“Gray hair? Think he'd stand out a bit, then. What kind of accent?”

“Russian, maybe?”

Phichit leans back, his voice having gradually raised from a whisper up to his current, slightly more amplified tone in which Yuuri can hear him perfectly clear though someone two feet over perhaps couldn't. Phichit mulls over Yuuri’s words, the bell ringing as his face contorts, clearly and amusingly attempting to trace his memory far back enough to remember if he's ever seen a man who matches Yuuri’s description. Yuuri continues to smile, finding joy in how hard Phichit’s working to try to figure the situation out.

Finally, Phichit announces, “Not sure who that might be. But I don't get out much, you know. Think maybe he's trying to flirt with you?”

If Yuuri had been drinking something, he'd have spit it all over the walls by now. His smile falls immediately, his face growing heated as he sputters, _“W-Wh-What?”_

“Flirting. Like, maybe he likes you, Yuuri. Why else would he-”

“No, no, no, no, no. That's not it.” Phichit doesn't look convinced, so Yuuri adds, “Why would he? I don't even know his name. He doesn't like me.”

“Yuu-”

“Class is starting. Sorry, Phichit. I shouldn't have brought it up. It wasn't important.”

“No, Yuur-”

Yuuri turns away from Phichit, choosing to ignore him rather than hear him out. His chest aches, sending vibrations throughout his body with every heartbeat, his shoulders jumping and his toes curling with every bump. He can feel his blood rushing, his cheeks practically on fire, his forehead growing wet with the sweat forming. Nervously, Yuuri tries to push his glasses up his nose, his fingers shaking so violently that he just _barely_ gets the job done.

The thought of someone liking him - the thought of _that boy_ liking him, with the silver hair and tall stature - has Yuuri nearly crippled. Yuuri has been trying so hard to build up his self-confidence, and lately he'd thought he'd been doing a decent job of it, because now at the very least he's less anxious about leaving the house in the clothes he likes. But this new idea of _being liked_ sends Yuuri back to the worst of his anxiety, his chest pounding so quickly that he hasn't even the time to consider whether being liked is a good thing or not.

No, it's not a good thing. It's _ridiculous._ Yuuri isn't liked, at least not in _that_ sense. Even considering that Yuuri might be someone's admiration is laughable.

Yuuri's too nerdy. He's not particularly fit, he eats too much, he excels in his academics (number three in the school, just behind Phichit at number one and some blond kid at number two), and Yuuri is clumsy and nerdy. Yuuri even wears _glasses._ Is that not the epitome of _geek?_

Yuuri tries to calm himself. He squeezes his fingers, curling them into fists. He does breathing exercises - in, out, breathe in, breathe out. Slowly, he recovers himself, for the most part.

But what if someone _does_ like Yuuri?

No. That's ridiculous. Nobody likes Yuuri like that.

Yuuri's not worthy of that.

                                                                                                             ~|~

Victor thinks he's so clever. He even walks with a smug smirk, his insides rumbling with anticipation as he prepares himself to put his plans into motion.

It's been a week since Victor last saw Yuuri, though it certainly hasn't been a week since Victor’s attempted to speak with him. Last week, he hung around Yuuri’s locker all morning waiting for him, and when he didn't show up either of the two mornings that he waited, Victor tried to look for him at lunch. After that failed as well, Victor took to figuring out a new plan of catching Yuuri, which is the plan he intends to set forth with today.

Yuuri’s very cute. Victor’s been looking into him in his private time, searching through old yearbooks, finding old pictures of Yuuri when he was a lot chubbier and shorter. Then, after spending plenty of time gushing over those, Victor took to the Internet, though to little avail. There aren't very many pictures of Yuuri on there.

Yuuri seems so cheerful, though, as indicated by all of the smiling pictures Victor saw. That may be biased though, as all of the pictures were in yearbooks and it's not likely that there'd be a frowning Yuuri in the yearbooks. Still, Victor’s been making guesses at Yuuri’s personality, and it may not be a stretch to say that Yuuri might just be Victor’s perfect match. Small, cute, a little chubby, smiley, pretty, _happy_ \- Victor could go on and on about the things he admires in Yuuri.

Victor stands just far enough away from Yuuri’s locker that he can stalk it relatively unnoticed. He huddles behind a trash can, not even caring about the odd looks being shot at him. Standing beside a trash can is definitely beneath him - he's _Victor Nikiforov,_ star athletic figure of the school, after all - but for Yuuri, it might just be worth it.

Did Yuuri see Victor hanging by his locker last week and avoid him accordingly? Perhaps. It seems likely now, as Victor catches sight of his sweet angel walk up and start unpacking his belongings. He's dressed in a rather large sweater, definitely a bit too big for his body, paired with tighter pants. His hair seems especially wild today, black locks thrown every which way, behind his ear and on his forehead and up in the air. Yuuri truthfully looks like he just woke up, didn't bother to brush his hair, and threw on the first thing he saw in his closet.

Victor still thinks it's cute, however. Definitely cute enough to make his cheeks feel warm.

Victor tries to shake it off. Has anyone else ever before entranced him like this? Well, yes. There was one time in third grade when Victor had a crush on someone. Nothing ever developed from that though, because Victor was young and didn't know how to act around people he liked. There was also a time later, in eighth grade, when Victor had a crush, but it didn't last longer than a week.

He also had an actual girlfriend just two years ago. She left him for someone else, though. Victor tries not to think on that too hard.

Victor tries to sneak out from behind the trash can, but as a result of getting too lost in his own thoughts, he trips over the trash can, knocking it and himself over. Victor scrambles to get up, leaving the can on the floor as he tries to regain his balance and slide up to Yuuri’s side. Yuuri stares at him, and to try to build up his smooth appearance, Victor leans his elbow onto the locker beside Yuuri’s. “I meant to do that,” he ends with.

Yuuri looks at him, then behind him at the mess he left. Then, Yuuri looks back at Victor again. Victor grins at him.

“Yuuri!” he exclaims, trying to soften the atmosphere.

At first, Yuuri’s appearance doesn't change. Then, slowly, the corners of his lips rise until finally he's giggling, and hell if that's not a blessing on Victor’s ears. Suddenly he feels a lot less embarrassed as Yuuri laughs at him, his body shaking with his cute chuckles. Victor can't help but smile, too, though whether it's at himself or whether it's a result of Yuuri’s contagious happiness, well, Victor thinks it's moreso the latter than the former.

“Yuuri,” Victor says, a lot more fondly this time. Yuuri’s giggling dies off, replaced now with concern.

“How- How do you know my name?”

“Yuuri? Who _doesn't_ know your name?”

Yuuri doesn't respond to that.

“Yuuri Katsuki,” Victor continues, “Smartest kid in the whole school!”

“Er. I'm- I’m not, actu-”

“I think you are.”

Yuuri’s cheeks are practically in flames. Victor feels a smug satisfaction, seeing what he's done to Yuuri.

Victor says, “I admire you.”

“Why- Why are you here?”

“Yuuri, do you know who I am?”

Yuuri doesn't answer that. Instead, he tightens his grip on a textbook, his eyebrows furrowing.

“My name is Victor. I play sports. But I am not very smart.”

Yuuri smiles a little at that. “Victor?” Yuuri’s voice sends a slight shiver down Victor’s spine, the sensation of Yuuri’s voice saying Victor’s name kissing every inch of Victor’s back until it's hard to resist, well, kissing Yuuri right back with his own words (or, preferably, his lips). “I'm sorry, Victor. I don't know how I can help with that.”

“I know how you can help.”

“Hah?”

“I'm not very smart. But you can help me by tutoring me.”

“I- I-”

“We can come to my house, if you want. Or yours. Or we can meet somewhere else. Anywhere’s fine.”

“Uh.”

“I promise I don't bite, Yuuri.” Though truthfully, Yuuri’s neck looks a bit appetizing. It's pale, and Victor wouldn't mind seeing it a little _purple._

Yuuri mulls over Victor's words, eyes shifting from Victor down to the textbook in his arms, then to his locker, and then back at Victor. He avoids looking directly into Victor’s eyes. Yuuri chews on his bottom lip for a moment before finally saying, “Ah, I guess. I can tutor you. Erm. Give me your phone number and- and we can set up a time to meet.”

_“Splendid!”_ Victor claps his hands together. “Then it's settled! Thank you, Yuuri!”

 

Yuuri nods. Victor is sure that Yuuri is swimming with questions, but so is _Victor._ Yuuri shoots him a nervous smile before shutting his locker and heading away from Victor, mumbling meaningless words as excuses to leave.

Yuuri might be anxious around Victor _now._ But Victor thinks it's pretty cute, and he can't wait to convince Yuuri to be more comfortable around him. He wants to open him up (in more ways than just emotionally) and feel around inside him, finding out who he is and if his sweet appearance matches up to what Victor’s dreamed of his personality being akin to. In spite of all of Victor’s research, Victor actually knows very little about Yuuri beyond that he's cute and that he's intelligent.

Victor dares not to ask the kids around the school about Yuuri. He's afraid that Yuuri’s awkwardness and genius might put him subject to bullying, and Victor thinks that he himself has a fair amount of influence on other people. Were someone to find out that Victor’s interested in Yuuri at this moment, who knows what could erupt? All of the girls who fawn over Victor would go after Yuuri. All of the people who think that they're Victor’s pals purely because they play sports together might hurt Yuuri.

Or maybe Victor’s overthinking it. Maybe Victor’s worrying himself over something that is purely bizarre, but already, Victor feels protective over Yuuri. He doesn't want to see Yuuri hurt. Just the thought makes Victor’s chest ache.

Victor adjusts his shirt, feeling flustered. He's thinking too much. Not a hobby that Victor often engages in. He prefers to go with the flow.

Victor can't stop thinking about Yuuri, though. He might not mind thinking so much, as long as it involves Yuuri.

                                                                                                             ~|~

Yuuri is a _mess._

Or, at least, he feels like one.

Victor’s coming over, _to his house,_ and he should be there in just a matter of moments. Yuuri’s been scrambling to clean his room from the moment that he woke up (which, he barely slept last night, so he awoke at the ripe hour of two in the morning) to now. He's mopped and swept the floors at least five times, and he's straightened the pictures on his walls more times than he can even remember.

Truthfully, Yuuri’s not even sure why he's doing so much for the guy. Yuuri doesn't bother to clean for Phichit, much less does he worry over what Phichit might think when he comes over. But Yuuri’s nearly _terrified_ of having Victor over.

He could've said no. He could've refused to tutor Victor. Why didn't he? Yuuri doesn't even know.

_It's because Victor’s cute._ No, he's not. That's not the case. Yuuri’s just being nice. Yuuri wants to help him. It's not because he thinks that Victor’s _cute._

_Except, Victor totally_ is _cute._ Shut up.

Yuuri’s going insane. He's practically talking to himself, slapping his cheeks whenever he dares to think that Victor might be the ‘c’ word. _Cute._

Yuuri refuses to fall for Victor. Why is he even considering it? There's no way that _Victor_ \- tall, confident, and yes, _cute_ \- would want to be with Yuuri. It's stupid to think.

Yuuri feels a little lonely at the thought. What if Victor _did_ like him? Maybe then Yuuri could have his first kiss. Maybe then, too, he'd have someone to curl up next to at night to help him fall asleep. Victor has nice hair. Yuuri wouldn't mind running his fingers through it. Maybe even smell it.

Ick. No. That's absurd. Victor does not want Yuuri like that. Yuuri blames Phichit for putting those poisonous images into his head. After all, Phichit was the one who suggested that Victor might like Yuuri in the first place.

Why _would_ Victor like him? They _just_ met. Yuuri’s not even fully sure of how Victor knows of who he is.

Yuuri feels his face. He's awfully warm. He's not sure whether that's from all of the exercise he's getting from cleaning his bedroom, or if it's a side effect of imagining Victor’s arms around him while they doze off to sleep together.

It's probably both.

Yuuri whips his head towards the door, hearing the front doorbell ring. He scrambles to straighten himself out, knowing that his mother will direct Victor back to Yuuri’s room. Yuuri tries his hardest to stand casually, like his heart totally isn't trying to beat out of his chest, but alas even his fingers begin to shake.

When Victor bursts through Yuuri’s bedroom door, it's all Yuuri can do to not faint on the spot.

Firstly, Victor looks, well, _good._ Yuuri hates to admit it to himself, but it's almost as if Victor dressed purposefully to make Yuuri swoon. His shirt’s unbuttoned so far down that he might as well _not_ be wearing a shirt at all, his upper chest revealed alongside his collar bones and part of his belly. His pants are tight, his hair thrown wildly, and his sleeves are rolled up so that his forearms are on full display, muscular and _damn it, yes, very handsome._

Yuuri’s so gay. He's so, so gay.

“Yuuri!” Victor sounds so happy to see Yuuri. IF Yuuri didn't know any better, he'd think he was the highlight of Victor’s day.

_“Victor,”_ Yuuri tries to imitate Victor’s enthusiasm, though he falls flat at the end. “Vic-”

“Your house is so lovely.”

“Erm. Thank-”

_“You're_ so lovely, Yuuri.”

_“Ah.”_ Yuuri wants to die. He wants Victor to pull out a knife and stab him in the gut. It’d be less painful than the emotions that he's feeling right now.

“May I sit?”

“Huh?” Yuuri can't even hear past the ringing in his ears. _Lovely?_ Yuuri’s _lovely?_ He must've heard wrong.

“Sit? Like, sit down? On your bed?”

“Huh. Oh. Yes. Sit. I'll join you.”

Yuuri plops down onto the end of his bed, Victor sitting towards the side with his pillows. Victor has no problem making himself at home, as he leans back onto the pillows and sinks in. On the floor, he's thrown down what looks to be a backpack, presumably full of the books that Yuuri will use to aid in tutoring Victor.

Yuuri sits with his fingers curled around his knees, feeling uncertain of what to do. He feels insecure, seeing Victor show off his nice body, acting so carefree. Yuuri can't convince himself to behave similarly.

“Yuuri, may I call you by a nickname?”

“Um. Yes. What nickname? My, uh, friend, Phichit, calls me Yuu.”

“Yuu?” Victor mulls it over for a solid second before snapping his fingers. “Piggy!”

“What?”

“Piggy! My little piglet. Oink, oink!”

Yuuri stares at him. Victor looks amused. _Is he serious?_

“Oink!” Victor grins, his eyes practically sparkling.

“Why am I a pig?”

“Because you look like one!”

“Oh.” Yuuri can feel tears form in his eyes. _Why is he crying?_ He should've known that Victor wouldn't like him. He should've known that someone like Victor, who, judging by his personality, must be a popular guy, would never be fond of Yuuri. Is that why Victor wanted Yuuri to tutor him? Was it just so that Victor could come and tease him, make fun of him in his own home, his only source of safety besides Phichit’s house? Yuuri should've known better than to let Victor into his heart. Yuuri should've known better than to get his hopes up.

“Ah, piggy, you're not upset, are you?”

_“No.”_ Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry, don't cry, don't-

“I'm sorry, Yuuri, do you not like the name? I thought of it because you're so pink. But I can find a new one for you. How do you like-”

_“No, I love being called a pig.”_ Yuuri wants to punch himself in the face.

“Perfect!” Victor claps his hands together, sitting up a bit straighter. “My little piggy. My little smart, genius piggy.”

Great. Yuuri’s a _pig,_ now. A smart pig, but still a pig nonetheless.

“Victor, can we just- just start the studying part of this, er, meeting?”

Yuuri looks up, trusting himself to not let tears fall though his cheeks are hot and his eyes are still wet. Victor's smile falls when he meets Yuuri’s eyes.

“Of course, Yuuri.”

“Not- Not _‘piggy’?”_

“Not now, angel.”

Yuuri has to pinch his wrist to make sure that he's not dreaming. He watches Victor lean over and open the backpack that he brought, pulling out a textbook.

“Yuuri, what are you good at?” Victor asks.

_Breathing? Being the living embodiment of anxiety?_ “Math.”

“Good, good. I am horrible at math. I do well in history.”

“Really?” Yuuri smiles, “That's where I'm not so good.”

“Maybe once you're done with me, I can tutor _you.”_ Victor’s smile is contagious. Yuuri’s smile grows, and his cheeks are beginning to ache.

“Of course. I wouldn't mind that.” Yuuri can feel himself succumbing to Victor’s charm. Yuuri really should've pushed the conversation further with Phichit when he first mentioned Victor, and the few times after that when he mentioned him once he knew Victor’s name. Yuuri would love to know as much about Victor as he could, but unfortunately he's gone into this blind as his only friend truly is Phichit and Phichit had no clue who Victor was.

That's to be expected, though. Phichit is so absorbed in his academics that he barely takes notice of those around him besides Yuuri.

“Victor?”

“Yes?”

“Why me?”

“Why you?”

“Yeah. Why did you want _me_ to tutor you?”

How does Victor smile for so long without his face hurting? “Hmm. Do you want the truth?”

“Not if it's going to hurt me.”

“Hurt you? I couldn't!” Victor leans closer to Yuuri, dropping his voice a tad. “I just think you're really cute, is all.”

“Hah?”

“I think you're cute.”

Yuuri must be hearing him wrong. But what _else_ could Victor be saying?

“I want to know you, Yuuri.” Suddenly hearing his name sounds far too intimate. Yuuri’s fingers are shaking again.

“T-T-That- Uh- Okay. Okay. Right.”

“I think you're _very_ cute.” Victor _must_ be playing with Yuuri now. “I could just kiss you! So cute. You make my heart melt.”

Yuuri doesn't open his mouth out of fear that his nervousness will make him throw up. He practically rips Victor’s textbook from him, frantically opening it to a random page, trying to skim to get a brief understanding of the content but he goes cross-eyed in the process. He shakes his head to get his orientation proper again, and instead knocks his glasses off his face and has to lunge himself forward to grab them and position them back on his face.

Victor’s giggling. “See! You are adorable! It's like watching a puppy! Or a piggy. You are cute!”

_“Right._ Er, not right. Um, nevermind. Thank you? Ah-”

“I could listen to you all day.”

_“Victor.”_ Yuuri slams his hands down on the textbook in his lap, trying to create a serious atmosphere. That attempt fails, however, judging by the admiring look that crosses Victor’s features, his fond smile pairing with how he lays his cheek on his palm, looking at Yuuri like Yuuri is the only thing worth seeing.

Yuuri feels out of place. Is this _really_ happening to him? Victor must be playing a game with him. Yuuri will _not_ succumb to this- this _player,_ who likely only wants Yuuri’s body and not his heart, who only wants to play with his mind and break him, not get to know him and love him. That must be it, right? There's just no other explanation.

Why can't Yuuri just _trust_ Victor?

Why doesn't Yuuri trust _himself?_

Yuuri wants to be like Victor. He wants to swim through life without a single care in the world. He wants to be able to relax, he wants to wear revealing clothes without second guessing himself. He wants confidence, he wants happiness. He wants to be able to smile nonstop like Victor, and he wants to be able to say the things that Victor says without being reduced to a puddle of uncertainty.

How did Victor become like this? Was he born this way, or is there some magical recipe for happiness that Yuuri’s missing out on?

Yuuri sighs. “Victor. What, specifically, do you need help with?”

“Math.”

_“No.”_ Yuuri can't tell if he's more frustrated at Victor or himself. “What part?”

“Hmm. Trigonometry, probably. But I'm also bad at geometry and algebra. And everything else, really.”

“Trigonometry. Okay. Let's start there.” Yuuri flips through the textbook in his lap until he finds a suitable, relatively easy-to-explain topic. “Victor, did you bring paper to practice on? And pencils?”

“I did.”

Yuuri studies Victor intently as he leans over and scrambles for his items once more. His skin burns Yuuri’s cheeks, the blood rushing up to his face as his upper body twists, his muscles chiseled like he'd been sculpted directly from the palms of a god. His abs show through his thin shirt, his pants low enough to reveal a faint happy trail, almost too light to be seen because of his hair color. Even his arms are muscular, his biceps threatening to burst through his shirt, his shoulders broad. Yuuri wants to touch him. He wants to run his fingers through every inch of his skin. His body tingles, craving Victor’s touch, craving what Yuuri knows he can't have.

_What Yuuri can't have._ That's right. Yuuri could never be close to Victor like that. It's a miracle that they're even in the same room together.

But still, Yuuri wants more. He wants to see more of Victor, he wants to touch him. He wants to see his back and scratch his nails down it, he wants Victor’s hands thrust in his hair. He wants his sweat, his spit, his thighs against his, their chests together, his _cum,_ oh god, Yuuri wants him to fill him up, Yuuri’s never even been kissed before but _oh god_ does he want Victor all over him, above him, inside him, kissing him, _fucking him-_

“Yuuri? Piggy, piggy? Oink? Are you there, my angel?”

Yuuri shakes his head. “Ah. Yes. I'm so sorry.”

“No big deal!” Victor grins. “You were staring at me and you weren't speaking. Scared me, almost!”

“I'm sorry, I just- Tired. Long day.”

“I understand. Me too, Yuuri. I woke up early today! I'm not used to doing that on a weekend.”

_Early, huh. Like “two a.m.” early?_ “Why did you wake up so early?”

“Nervous,” Victor laughs. “You're so cute. How could I not be a little nervous?”

“You make _me_ nervous.” _Stupid Yuuri, stupid, stupid, stupid! Why did you say that? Now Victor will never love you, he'll never want you, he'll never-”_

“Really? Ah!” Victor’s eyes widen, “That makes me so happy! Yuuri, can I ask you something?”

“Um.”

“Will you go on a date with me? A real date?” Victor looks hopeful. “I'll take you out somewhere nice. A surprise, though! Can't tell you where I'm taking you. I'll pick you up and drive you there, all my treat.”

It's tempting. A date, with Victor, for free? It's too good to be true. Yuuri pinches himself again to test if he's dreaming, yet he doesn't wake up.

Why would Victor want _Yuuri?_ Why _does_ Victor want Yuuri? Why does Victor think that Yuuri’s cute? This absolutely cannot be real. It must be a cruel joke.

“A date,” Yuuri repeats, “With- With me?”

“With you! You and your cute smile.”

_“Hah.”_ Yuuri’s fingers feel numb. His throat is dry. “When?”

“Next weekend. Give me a week to prepare the best date for you that I can.”

“Victor-” Yuuri nearly chokes on himself, “Vic- Victor, are you messing with me?”

“Messing with you?”

“Is- Is this all just a _joke_ to you? Do you think this is _funny?” Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry, it's not Victor’s fault, you're overthinking it, don't cry, Yuuri, don’t cry, don't do this again, don't-_

“Why would I be joking?”

“I don't _know.”_ Yuuri's crying. He can't stop himself. The tears are falling. “Because you think it's _funny_ to hurt someone like this? Because I'm just- I'm a _geek._ Nobody would want to date _me._ Especially not someone like _you.”_

“Someone like me?” Victor's not smiling anymore. He sits close to Yuuri, frozen in place, one hand in the air poised to reach for Yuuri, the other clutching his own knee. His eyes dart back and forth and up and down, inspecting Yuuri’s whole body, making Yuuri feel even more insecure as the tears send ripples throughout his body, hiccups popping out one by one, tears wetting his cheeks and his arms and his shirt and his bed. He sniffles, letting himself go, as it's too late to hold back now. Sobs come slipping out, and Yuuri has to take off his glasses to wipe his face.

_“Someone like you!”_ he barks, “Someone so _handsome._ Someone so obviously _popular._ I'm not popular. I'm not _handsome._ I - _hic!_ \- I'm pathetic, and we both know it. _Look at me,_ Victor. I'm not _desirable.”_

“I think you are.”

_“You're wrong.”_ Yuuri drops his glasses onto his bed, using both hands to wipe his cheeks now. “You're so, so wrong. I'm so _stupid.”_

Yuuri jumps a little when he feels Victor grip his wrist. Victor forces Yuuri to look into his eyes, close enough that even without the glasses, Yuuri can see him clearly. Victor says, his voice low, “Don't say that about yourself. Don't you dare say that.”

Yuuri sucks in a deep breath. “But it's true.”

“No. It is not true. It's far from the truth.” Victor grabs Yuuri’s other wrist now, preventing Yuuri from both wiping his face and from hiding his eyes. “You are not stupid. You are the most beautiful boy that I have ever laid my eyes on, and you are the smartest boy that I have ever spoken to. Your grades don't lie to you, your reputation as someone incredibly smart is nothing to scoff at. You, my angel, are _amazing._ Anyone who says otherwise can come and fight me in person. I will defend you. _”_

Yuuri responds with broken cries. Victor releases him, taking the opportunity to run his fingers over Yuuri’s cheeks, trying to clear the tears at the pace in which they fall.

“Yuuri,” Victor says, almost whispering. “Yuuri, please trust me. Let me take you out. I'll prove to you that I'm being serious.”

“V- V- Vic- _hic!”_ Yuuri melts into Victor’s touch, tilting his head to the side. Victor gets the hint and spreads his fingers out, his palm to Yuuri’s cheek so that he's holding Yuuri’s head up. His other hand continues wiping Yuuri’s face off. “Victor, _please.”_

“You are too cute to hurt like this.” Victor rubs his thumb over Yuri’s eyes, then his index finger just underneath them. He uses his middle finger to caress his cheek and then to touch his lips. “Smile for me.”

Yuuri’s chest aches, pain coursing through his body too quickly for him to feel much more than numbed.

Victor told him to smile. Victor, the pretty boy who wants to take Yuuri out on a date. The pretty boy that _likes_ Yuuri. _Smile for Victor._

Yuuri’s lips slowly turn upwards, beginning with the corners until finally, instead of hiccuping, he's _giggling._ The laughter spills out, and suddenly Victor’s giggling too, their voices growing louder and louder until they're both a mess of their own jitters. For a moment, it feels as though they're having a contest of who can laugh louder - first, it's Yuuri winning, then Victor, then Yuuri again, then Victor once more, and then Yuuri can't tell anymore because they're both giggling so hard. Yuuri’s practically in Victor’s lap by the time that their laughter dies down, but truthfully Yuuri can't say that he minds that.

_“Yes,”_ Yuuri finally says, grinning at Victor. “Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes, I'll go on a date with you, Victor.”

“I could kiss you right now.”

“I could kiss _you_ right now.”

“Then why aren't you?”

_That_ brings Yuuri back to reality all of a sudden. He _could_ be kissing Victor right now. He could have his lips all over his, and heck, Victor would probably even let him curl into his lap or wrap his legs around his neck. But Yuuri remembers why he isn't doing all of that. Yuuri isn't confident.

But Yuuri _could_ be confident. Yuuri could be so damn confident.

Yuuri _wants_ to be confident. He wants to be _sexy._

“Mm,” Yuuri hums, his heart begging him not to speak the words, his mind forcing them through anyways. “Not yet. Can't have me yet, Victor. Prove to me you're worthy?”

Yuuri hopes he comes across as teasing, but truthfully it's probably more playful, if not pitiful, than anything else. His eyes must be still red from crying, and he knows his voice is strained.

Victor chuckles. “I'll prove that to you, and _more._ And when I've proved it to you once, I'll prove it to you _again_ and again until you have no doubt that I want you.”

Yuuri wants that. He wants to be wanted. He wants _confidence,_ and Victor may just be his ticket to happiness.

Yuuri doesn't even regret crying in front of Victor anymore.

If anything, Yuuri’s glad it happened.

But more than anything, Yuuri’s glad that _Victor’s_ in his life now. Alone, there was only so much that Yuuri could do to make himself feel better, and with Phichit, it was certainly easier.

But to have a _boy_ who _likes Yuuri_ help him achieve the life he wants?

Yuuri’s not sure how he became so lucky all of a sudden. Victor's presence feels heavenly now, his skin glowing pale, his hair visibly soft, the touch of his flesh burning into Yuuri’s body. He wants more of that touch. Whereas he doubted Victor with all his might just merely a bit ago, Yuuri is now ready to put all of his faith in him.

It may be a mistake to trust Victor. But Yuuri can't think about that. At least, not when Victor’s thumb begins rubbing circles into Yuuri’s jaw. A nudge and a nod later, and Yuuri’s pulled up to Victor’s side to commence their “studying” - as in, the book lies forgotten on the floor while Yuuri and Victor decide to discuss everything else under the sun instead. It's in this moment that Yuuri finds out about how Victor knew who he was (as Victor describes it, _“I saw you one day, thought you were cute, and decided I'd go after you when I saw you again”)_ , and it's here than Yuuri is told about Victor being an athlete.

Yuuri begins to grow fond of being called a piglet.

Yuuri thinks, too, that this is where he begins to fall in love.

                                                                                                             ~|~

Victor doesn't like to admit it, but he is a complete _mess._

On the outside, maybe not. He's managed to tame his hair to one side, being extra careful not to leave any stray hairs. He's dressed in the best outfit he could pull together within a week, meaning that he's wearing a tuxedo jacket paired with a dress shirt and his favorite bow tie, which has a repeating pattern of a poodle printed on it. He's made sure that he smells decent, almost (if not completely) overdoing the cologne and assorted perfumes that he's sprayed on himself.

He was fairly assured of himself when he first walked up to Yuuri’s house to pick him up. But then his mom answered the door, and apparently Yuuri must have told her about the date, because she dragged him into the house and begged for pictures of the two together. Victor was told to stand in front of a fireplace, and soon Yuuri had come out, looking just as beautiful as ever - his eyes were wide, his cheeks pink, his clothes form-fitting though still appropriate for the occasion. It was in this moment that Victor wondered how he got so lucky, how something as simple as seeing a cute boy in a crop top at the local mall could lead to Victor being blessed with the hand of the same wholesome boy. Victor doesn't even mind the many pictures that Yuuri’s mother took of them, and in fact he hopes to receive a few copies of the pictures himself. In one, he's holding Yuuri’s palm. In another, Victor has his arm around Yuuri’s shoulders. And in a different one, Victor’s hand is at the small of Yuuri’s back.

Once Victor was able to escape from Yuuri’s mom - which only happened, of course, with the help of Yuuri insisting to her that they had to leave - Victor put Yuuri in the passenger seat of his car and began to drive him to their destination. He put a blindfold on Yuuri once they were close, and that's what brought them to this moment - Victor’s hands at the back of Yuuri’s head, untying the blindfold, his fingers brushing against the short strands of Yuuri’s dark locks.

For a moment, Victor reflects on what brought him here. The fear that coursed through him when he realized that it was _Yuuri Katsuki_ that he wanted, the sudden insecurity over Yuuri’s superior intelligence. Victor does a decent job at suppressing negative emotions, however, and even when Yuuri’s beautiful face was tainted with wet tears, Victor managed to hold himself together. For that, he has pride in himself.

Victor still has a nagging fear that he isn't the right person for Yuuri. Victor is relatively popular due to his stance in school as an athlete. Yuuri is not popular in that sense. And, unfortunately, Victor knows some of his fellow athletes to be, well, _assholes_ to the kids who aren't strong. Victor does not want to draw unnecessary attention to Yuuri by dating him. He realizes now that it was already risky enough, just spending his mornings by Yuuri’s locker and engaging him in discussion.

But what if Yuuri wants _everyone_ to know of them? That could be troubling, but Victor isn't sure that he's capable of saying no to Yuuri. If Yuuri wants to hold hands in the middle of the hallways, then damn, they're gonna hold hands in the middle of the hallways. Yuuri’s eyes are practically naturally puppy eyes.

The blindfold slips off of Yuuri’s face, his eyes opening slowly. Once they're open, they widen, his cheeks flushing as he looks now at Victor.

“Victor?” he murmurs, “What is this place?”

“A garden. Thought it'd be nice. Just you and me and the shrubbery. Maybe a squirrel or two, if they're still awake.”

Victor feels a smug sense of satisfaction at Yuuri’s wonder-filled face. By the look on Yuuri’s features, it's evident that Yuuri hasn't been to a real garden before, and if he has then it must have been a long time ago. The sidewalk is made of stone, dim lights kissing the edges to illuminate their path. There are street lamps, as well, though most of them appear to be dead. Through the dark, the grass is a deep shade of green, the sky a heavy blue, the trees turning red with autumn. There are benches by the sidewalk, wooden benches and bushes blooming with flowers. The trees stretch so high that Victor can only just barely see the stars out, and the moon isn't visible at all.

It's beautiful. But Victor prefers to watch Yuuri, and how his face warps with a different shade of amazement at every turn. After a moment, Yuuri grips Victor’s wrist, squeezing him tightly. Victor takes that as his _‘thank you’._

“My little piggy,” Victor says softly, “Mind if I show you around?”

Yuuri lessens his grip on Victor. “I would not mind that at all.” Victor takes this as his chance, shifting so that their arms are interlocking now. And like a man leading his mistress, Victor begins walking alongside Yuuri with slow steps.

“It's a miracle I even found this place,” Victor muses. “I’d been looking everywhere for a garden to take you to. Most were either attached to eaterys or were closed or off limits. But this one? I'm surprised it's so empty. Must not be well-known.”

“Victor, I don't know what to say.”

“Why say anything?”

“Because I want to thank you.”

“You just did.”

“No. I want to _repay_ you.”

“You really _haven't_ ever been on a date before,” Victor chuckles. “You don't repay me for a _date._ This is my offering to you.” It was last weekend in Yuuri’s bedroom that Victor was informed by an embarrassed Yuuri that Yuuri hadn’t ever been on a date before, much less had he ever had someone like Victor wipe his tears away.

“Why would you do this for me without expecting something in return?”

“I didn't pay for any of this, firstly,” Victor admits, “And secondly, you _are_ repaying me. Seeing your face just now when I took your blindfold off? Priceless. I would kill a man just to see that face a few more times.”

Even in the dark, Yuuri’s pale cheeks glow with patches of red. Yuuri’s arm burns him, the intimate contact making Victor feel more flustered than he'd like to admit.

“This is so- so _gorgeous,”_ Yuuri presses closer to Victor’s side, as if the shrubbery might reach out and bite him. Victor’s not even sure that Yuuri realizes what he's doing.

“Not nearly as gorgeous as _you,_ but I guess you're right.”

“Hush, Victor.”

“Hush?”

“If you keep saying things like that, I won't be able to hold back.”

“Oh? My little piggy is holding back? Holding _what_ back exactly?”

That earns Victor a half-hearted glare. “Hmph.”

“That's not an answer.”

“I don't have to answer.”

“How about a deal, then?” Victor grins, “You tell me what you're holding back on, and I'll consider that as your _repayment_ for our _date.”_

“I want to kiss you.”

_That_ throws Victor for a loop. He almost trips, catching himself on Yuuri to regain his footing. His chest aches after his heart skips one or two (or maybe three or four or five) beats, his head fuzzy from the thought.

“Ah- Ah, Victor, are you okay? You look ill suddenly, it isn't- it isn't what I said, is it?”

“It is.” Victor notices Yuuri’s sad puppy eyes. “Er, not in a bad way. You surprised me, that's all. I'm surprised. In a good way! Happy surprise.”

_Holy shit, Victor wants his lips on Yuuri’s too._ Yuuri has small lips, thin and pale, similar to his body in that way. He thinks back to the day when he saw Yuuri in a crop top - wondering, for a moment, if he'll ever reveal to Yuuri that _that's_ how he discovered him - and how the shape of his body did wonders to Victor. It is now not just his body, but the shape of his lips that sends shivers down his spine, the thought alone of kissing Yuuri’s lips sending jolts of ecstasy down his back. He wants to taste Yuuri, taste his mouth and his teeth and his neck and collar and his belly, his _everything._ Victor wants Yuuri all to himself and in every way possible.

“Erm,” Yuuri continues, “I also want to hug you. And talk to you.”

“We're talking now.”

“More. I want more.”

“I can give you more.”

“Why don't you, then?”

_Why does Victor feel so nervous?_ “Want some more?” Victor teases. “You've gotta catch me.”

“Catch- _Victor!”_

Victor unwraps his arm from Yuuri’s and takes off running down the sidewalk, following the path though looking behind him at Yuuri. Yuuri’s quick for someone so soft - he remains only a few feet behind Victor the entire time.

That proves to be of Yuuri’s disadvantage, however, as Victor pays no attention to what's ahead of him and ends up falling face-first into a fountain. Just as he's about to bring his head back up above water to get a gasp of air, he’s slammed roughly down by Yuuri falling in right after him. They push and pull at each other, grabbing at skin and clothes until they're finally both above water, desperate for air. The water reaches their waists when standing, the fountain a significant depth. Yuuri coughs up aqua.

_“What the hell, Victor?”_

“Why are you angry at _me?”_ Victor scoffs, “You should've warned me. You saw that I wasn't looking forward. But _you_ were.”

“I wasn't focused on where we were going.”

“What _were_ you focused on?”

“You're really going to make me say it?” Yuuri waddles closer to Victor, his shirt sticking to his skin like glue. _“You,_ dummy. I was watching _you.”_

“Oh.”

“Right.”

“You've become bold, Yuuri.”

“You're just easy to be comfortable around.”

“Is that so?”

“You _jerk._ It's _cold_ out here. The water only makes it worse.”

“You can wear my jacket if you want.”

“What, your jacket that's _drenched_ right now?”

“I could use my _body_ to warm you up.”

Yuuri shoots him an angry pout, but Victor thinks it’s too cute to reciprocate. In fact, it’s so cute that Victor can’t help but step closer to Yuuri and poke at his cheek.

_“Quit,”_ Yuuri whines after a few more prods. “You _jerk.”_

“I have to touch you to make sure you're real.”

“Why wouldn't I be real?”

“Not sure. You're too good to be true.”

Yuuri attempts to scoot away from Victor, but the water slows him down significantly and makes it almost humorous how he tries to speed away. The water is freezing cold, but by now Victor’s legs are so numbed that he doesn't mind the chill anymore. It makes it difficult to follow Yuuri, however, when he can't feel his own limbs.

Yuuri climbs out of the fountain first, and he holds his hands out to help Victor. The cold air hits Victor’s flesh, and he strips himself of his jacket. He begins to unbutton his shirt, too, when Yuuri cries out.

_“What are you doing?”_ he exclaims, “Victor, why are you undressing yourself? Public indecency!”

“I’d rather get a ticket for being naked out in public than dead from hypothermia.”

_“Victor!”_

“What?” Victor shrugs his wet shirt off. “Fine. If it bothers you so much, we’ll go back to my car. I'll turn the heat on. I think I have spare blankets in there, too.”

Yuuri agrees to that, and the two head back down the path they ran. Victor had been so absorbed in Yuuri that he hadn't even noticed how truly pretty his surroundings are. He watches them up until the moment, not far from the fountain, that Yuuri stops Victor.

“Erm, Victor?”

“Yes, piggy?”

“I- Nevermind.”

“No, tell me.”

“It's stupid.”

“Nothing you say is ever stupid.”

“Don't lie to my face like that.”

“I'm being honest! What was it, Yuuri?”

_“Nothing.”_

“Don't lie to _my_ face like that.”

Yuuri’s lips form a small smile at that. It falls, then, as he nervously wrings his wet palms together. “Um- I feel stupid asking this. But will you hold my hand?”

“I'm shirtless and all you want to do is hold my hand?”

_“Cheeky.”_ Yuuri’s hand slides easily into Victor’s, their fingers interlocking like their hands were made just for each other. Victor’s face flushes when Yuuri adds, almost in a whisper, “But I wouldn't mind holding onto _something else,_ if you know what I mean.”

Victor sucks in a deep breath. Yuuri truly has become a lot more bold. More _confident._ Is he just like this with Victor? He hopes so, truthfully - he's seeing a part of Yuuri that no other is allowed to see, that nobody else is able to get to so easily. It's like Victor found the key to Yuuri’s heart, and slowly he's unlocking it. “No, I don't know what you mean. Explain it to me.”

“I am _not_ explaining it.”

“I want details. What is it you want to hold? What would you do with it?”

“You're _disgusting.”_

_“You_ brought it up, piglet. Think you could even handle it? You're so sweet and innocent.”

“And _you're_ disgusting.”

“If it helps, I want to hold _yours,_ too.”

_“Victor! Stop!”_ Yuuri whines, his hand squeezing Victor’s.

“I’d kiss it. It's probably just as cute as you are. Pink, like my little piggy’s cheeks, and-”

“Victor, if you don't stop talking, I will not hold your hand anymore.”

“Oh, _punishment._ Fine. I'll hush.”

It's cute, Victor thinks, that Yuuri realizes that their holding hands benefits both parties. Yuuri was the one who requested that they partake in it, but if Victor weren't fully enjoying the warmth of their palms touching, then the threat of losing that warmth would be futile. Yuuri truly is a smart boy, and Victor admires him for it. If it's true that opposites attract, then Victor hopes that his athleticism conflicts with Yuuri’s intelligence and thus makes them perfect for one another.

Victor wants that kiss. Ever since Yuuri brought it up, Victor’s lips have been tingling, craving sensation. It's like an itch that he can't scratch, his tongue begging to hug someone else, begging to connect with _Yuuri._ The air is cold and is only getting colder, numbing Victor, yet he can't focus on anything but the thought of Yuuri’s lips against his.

Why did Yuuri have to put that image into his head and then proceed to _not_ kiss him?

Once the two are in Victor’s car, the heat blasting on their wet skin, Victor releases Yuuri’s hand - or maybe it's Yuuri who releases Victor. He's not too sure. But he keeps his eyes not on Yuuri but instead on the steering wheel by him, tracing its curves with his eyes as he mulls over how to phrase his words. Victor usually lacks a brain-to-mouth filter, but with Yuuri, he wants to be careful. He's already inadvertently made Yuuri cry _once._ He can't handle being the cause of his tears _another_ time.

Victor opens his mouth to speak after an eternity of silence between the two, both seeming to be lost in thought as their bodies were warmed. Victor has made no move to look at Yuuri in the past few minutes, knowing that if he does, he may have difficulty holding himself back.

Already, Yuuri is special to Victor. Victor wanted to get to know the cute boy from the mall, and Victor wanted to open up Yuuri Katsuki and find out what's really going on inside his head. Now that he's doing so, Victor’s afraid that he's already let his heart get too attached. Victor spent so much time worrying over not hurting Yuuri that he hasn't even taken a second to wonder if he's properly equipped _himself_ to be strong in the face of pain.

“You mean a lot to me, you know that?” Victor murmurs, eyes now on his own hands, curled in his lap. “I don't like that you doubt yourself. I don't like that you freely insult yourself like you're not worth anything. You are worth _so_ much. I'm almost angry that nobody has tried to steal your heart before me, because how could anyone not? If they knew how special you were, they'd be all over you, Yuuri. But I think it's for the best, too, because it's brought me to you somehow. I want to know more about you. I want to do so many things with you, but there just isn't enough time and money in my world for all of it. The best I can do is offer to kiss you, because after all, that's what you said you wanted, right? It's- _hah.”_

Victor halts speaking as soon as he notices Yuuri to his side, slumped back in his chair, completely asleep. Victor even waves a hand in his face a moment after the shock wears off, and it is then confirmed that Yuuri’s been asleep the entire time that Victor was speaking.

Victor can't help but chuckle, watching Yuuri's sleeping form. His mouth hangs open, breathing heavy, his eyelashes just barely caressing his cheeks. The color’s gone from them, leaving him pale. Victor feels a slight frustration in seeing Yuuri still wearing his wet clothes - isn't Yuuri supposed to be the smart one? He should know better than to keep drenched clothes on in cold weather, even if they're in the process of drying themselves now. And if Yuuri just didn't want Victor to see him undressed, Victor _did_ tell him that he has plenty of blankets.

Remembering that, Victor reaches back and digs around in the backseat of his car until he manages to find a sheet he can put over Yuuri. It's soft, and once he places it over Yuuri’s body, Yuuri seems to melt into it, shifting in his sleep so that he's gripping onto the cover and he sinks further down into his seat.

Yuuri’s a mystery. Sometimes, he's confident - as proven by the time that Victor saw him in the mall and just now, outside, every word uttered was a challenge. But sometimes, he reverts back to being uncertain about himself, and while it's cute, Victor can't stand it. He likes when Yuuri is happy, not nervous.

Does _Victor_ make Yuuri nervous? Certainly. He can tell that he does. Yuuri doesn't hide it well. But Victor is determined to make Yuuri love him, because Yuuri is deserving of that sort of affection. How is Victor the only one ever to realize this? How is Victor the only one ever to make a move on Yuuri? He'd think Yuuri would be turning down lovers left and right with how beautiful he is.

It's his reputation. It must be. Yuuri’s too smart for his own good.

It angers Victor. What has Yuuri ever done to deserve this sort of negativity surrounding him? He's smart and reserved, and as a result he doesn't grab anyone's attention, but, when he _does,_ Victor worries if it's ever positive.

Victor reaches over and pets Yuuri’s hair back. The water keeps his locks in place, and it only takes a minute or so before Victor’s smoothed every strip of hair off of Yuuri’s forehead. Then, he slowly leans forward, watching Yuuri for any signs of consciousness. When none come, Victor presses his lips gently to Yuuri’s now-exposed forehead, relishing in the feeling of his piggy’s soft skin and the small hint of cinnamon that he smells from his body. Victor lingers until his lips ache against Yuuri’s head, and it's only then that he removes himself from Yuuri. Yuuri doesn't shift.

Victor feels almost addicted to Yuuri. In the days leading up to their date, Victor didn't hang out with Yuuri much at school. But he was texting him nonstop and even calling him, filling up his entire nights with conversations back and forth with Yuuri. Sometimes, they didn't even have anything to say to each other, but just knowing that Yuuri was on the other side warmed Victor.

Victor jumps when he feels Yuuri’s hand find his once more, and through his sleepy haze, Yuuri curls his fingers around Victor’s palm. Victor, in turn, holds onto Yuuri as well.

Victor’s worries all melt away in that moment. He becomes so relaxed, in fact, that he feels himself drifting off, too. His eyes are heavy, his muscles growing weaker until, finally, he gives in.

Victor falls asleep with his head resting near Yuuri’s, their hands holding onto each other the entire night.

                                                                                                             ~|~

“Yuuri, I want to take you out again.”

“Again? We went on a date _yesterday.”_

“Not enough. I need more of you.”

Yuuri grins, chuckling so Victor knows that he's amused. Yuuri sits in his bedroom, legs crossed as he lies on his back, his eyes tracing patterns on the ceiling while his phone sits perched by his ear. Victor’s on the other end of the call, having had just dropped Yuuri off at his own house after their date merely an hour or so ago. Yuuri’s mother was frightened by his absence, considering that Victor was supposed to have him home by _nine last night,_ but Yuuri managed to calm her down by saying that they fell asleep in Victor’s car. Which was true.

She seemed relieved by Yuuri’s words. Yuuri’s glad, because he'd be devastated if his mom were to dislike Victor for any reason. Both his mother and Victor are important to him now. He'd be a wreck if it were tense between them.

“Sweet piglet,” Victor muses, his voice smooth like melting chocolate. “How's your balance?”

“My balance? Decent.” _Not really._

“How about your stamina?”

“Um. I don't know.”

“That's fine. That's good!” Yuuri can practically see Victor's smile, the crinkles by his eyes, his slightly uneven lips. Yuuri wishes he could see that in person right about now. “I want to surprise you again.”

“Is this how it's gonna be?” Yuuri’s fingers find a stuffed poodle by his mattress and he begins to play with its fake ears. “Are you just gonna keep taking me on surprise dates? It's not fair. I want to take _you_ out too, you know.”

“You're free to do that any time. But I've already paid for this place, so-”

_“Paid?_ Victor, please-”

“No, no, it's worth it! I promise. I pay all the time. It'll be fun! I go to this place every week. You'll be shocked!”

“More shocked than our last date?”

“‘Course. My specialty lies in _surprises.”_

“We'll see about that.”

“I promise you won't get wet this time, too. So wear something nice. Warm. Fitting, maybe. Sexy. Or cute- _ah, Makkachin, off!”_

“Makka-who?” Yuuri feels a flare of jealousy. How dare Victor have company over without informing Yuuri? Yuuri tries to lessen the itch with humor. “Macaroni?”

“No, babe.” _Babe?_ Be still, Yuuri's heart. “My dog. Makkachin. She's trying to sit in my lap. But she's too big. She won't fit.”

“What kind of dog is she?”

“A poodle. A huge one, at that.”

Yuuri stares down at the stuffed poodle he'd been petting mindlessly as if it were real. _Makkachin._

“She has a pretty name,” Yuuri says.

“Thank you. I named her myself.”

Victor has a poodle named Makkachin. It only makes sense, then, that Yuuri name his _own_ toy poodle an equally as gorgeous name, something that he'll remember despite its inanimate state. He wonders if Victor’s dog looks anything like Yuuri’s toy, with curly brown fur and big black eyes.

_Victor._ That's it. Yuuri will name his doll after Victor - a combination of the name of the boy who stole his heart and the dog that belongs to him. Viccachin. Vakkachan. _Vicchan._

_“Victor,”_ Yuuri murmurs, cutting Victor off mid-sentence of whatever he was beginning to say. Yuuri’s eyes feel droopy, despite having slept all night and then some, as Yuuri didn't even wake up until Victor had driven him home in the morning. “Victor, you're too good to me.”

“Nonsense. I'm only giving you what you deserve, to the best of my abilities.”

“I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry that I'm not being good to you in return. I want to be better. I wa-”

“No, no, _no._ Repeat after me, piggy. _I am perfect.”_

“What? I can't. I can't say that. I can't-”

“Say it. _I. Am. Perfect.”_

“There's no way-”

“Do I need to come over there, Yuuri? Force your lips to say it myself?”

_Well, Yuuri_ would _enjoy Victor's company._ “You're embarrassing me.”

“You haven't even said it yet.”

“Why do I have to say it?”

“It'd make both of us happy.”

“Only you, Victor.”

“And _you._ Trust me.”

“I trust you.” Yuuri does. A little bit too much, he fears. Victor's the first man to ever really _want_ Yuuri like this, and Yuuri’s afraid that he might be opening up too quickly. Victor said to wear something cute, and the first thing that flashed in Yuuri’s head was a new crop top he'd bought at the mall however many weeks ago. But would it be too much to wear that for Victor already? Yuuri doesn't want to give the wrong impression. Crop tops make him feel better about himself, even if he's not totally in love with his body right now. He doesn't wear them just because he wants to show off his figure, but what if that's how Victor takes it? Yuuri doesn't want to risk hurting their relationship. Yuuri sucks in a deep breath. “I am perfect.”

“You _are,”_ Victor replies, certainty in his voice. “You make me very happy, Yuuri Katsuki.”

“Not _‘piggy’?”_

“I like having variety in the names I call you. _Babe.”_

“Shush. That one’s too intimate.”

“Intimate? You like it?”

“Honestly, I do. A little too much.”

“Hm. I'll be sure to use that to my advantage.”

"You are _horrible.”_

"And yet, you're still putting up with me.”

“I'm kinda stuck with you now, Victor.”

“Not stuck. Don't make it sound like a prison sentence,” Victor hums, amusement clear in his tone. Yuuri finds comfort in his voice.

“Next weekend?”

“Hm?”

“Take me out on another date. Next weekend.”

“What's wrong with today?”

“I'm still exhausted from last night, Victor.”

Yuuri traces patterns into the fake fur of his poodle toy. He imagines Victor doing the same to Makkachin, his long fingers curling around the strands of hair. Yuuri wants to feel Makkachin all of a sudden and get a feel for Victor’s life beyond Yuuri, a hands-on experience of what Victor smells and tastes and touches every day. Yuuri wants that, and he wants _Victor._ He wants his hands in Victor’s hair and on his body, holding hands and connecting skin, maybe even feel the flush of Victor’s flesh against Yuuri’s own fingers. He craves that kiss he mentioned to Victor before, why didn't he go for it? Victor didn't seem to reject the idea, though he certainly looked shocked to hear of what Yuuri's been starting to want. Victor’s lips seem to be more plump than Yuuri’s, and though Yuuri has little to no experience at kissing, he wants to learn the art of it through his new Russian partner.

Russian partner.

Russian friend.

Russian mate.

Russian- _boyfriend?_

“Next weekend, then,” Victor establishes.

“Next weekend,” Yuuri confirms.

“I cannot wait to see you, Katsuki. Remember. Wear something cute.”

“Of course,” Yuuri grins. He craves Victor. He feels a need to surprise him - if not, will Victor grow bored of him? Yuuri needs to be shocking, not dull.

But why does Yuuri feel insecure? Victor came after _him._ Yuuri should feel no obligation to change for Victor.

Except, Yuuri's not changing for the worse, he thinks. He's merely becoming more confident. Victor is bringing that out of Yuuri. He is heightening his self-esteem. Victor is a gift to Yuuri, and Yuuri can only hope to be the same for Victor.

Something cute. That's what Victor said to wear.

Yuuri has something cute that he can wear. And if Victor doesn't like it, that's not Yuuri's problem. Victor wanted _Yuuri_ before Yuuri began wanting Victor. Yuuri enjoys being wanted, and he enjoys being full of surprises. He just hopes that this surprise he has planned will work in his favor, though his anxiety begs him not to pull through with this.

Yuuri has the perfect outfit to wear for his date with Victor. 

Yuuri has the perfect _crop top_ to wear.

 

**Author's Note:**

> i'll update the tags and possibly the summary whenever i get around to reading over this. the title is inspired by "shape of you" by ed sheeran bc i'm basic af. sorry if this sucks lol


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